


world ain't ending but it might as well be

by Anonymous



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Finger Sucking, I can write Eddie taking a dick if he's REALLY bossy about it, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Praise Kink, Richie let someone else get railed for once challenge, Spit Kink, Sub Top Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28884297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Well, I was thinking I'd like to ride your dick," Eddie says. "That way I'm more in control and it's less pressure for you. You can just lie there and enjoy it. I could even tie you up if you want." He's not using even a hint of his sexy voice--by his tone, they could be discussing what color to paint the guest bedroom. Why is that so fucking hot to Richie?
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 13
Kudos: 171
Collections: Clowntown Kink Meme 2021





	world ain't ending but it might as well be

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [clowntown2021](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/clowntown2021) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Eddie ties Richie to the bed and rides his dick. That's it, that's the prompt.
> 
> (Bonus for lots of praise and dirty talk about how good it feels)

Eddie springs it on him over dinner, of all fucking things. Richie has a forkful of sesame chicken halfway to his mouth when Eddie says, "For my birthday, I was thinking you could fuck me."

Richie sits there staring at him until Eddie gently reaches over and taps him on the chin, a reminder to at least close his mouth.

"Um," Richie eventually says after manually shutting down and restarting his brain. "That's not--I mean, you know I--"

"Baby, I am not asking you to top me," Eddie reassures him. "I know you eat open-face sandwiches because you can't even top a piece of cheese with some bread. But you have a huge dick, and frankly it's a shame to waste it on doing nothing but getting railed."

"You used to be the repressed one in this relationship," Richie mumbles, his face scarlet even though they're alone in their own dining room. The way Eddie talks about sex, so direct and unabashed, not even lowering his voice, never fails to make Richie feel both awkward and horny.

"Anyway," Eddie continues as though Richie said nothing, "you know I love fucking your brains out, but I really think I deserve to get dicked down once in my life."

Richie can't really argue with that, except he's going to anyway. "You know that's, uh, a challenge for me," he says.

It's an incredibly on-brand joke--Richie Tozier's dick is so big he's actually scared to fuck someone with it. He can't handle the responsibility. It would crush in a set, except there's no way he could ever say it out loud to anyone except Eddie. The memory of those clumsy attempts in college, and the way he fled in mortification afterward, still make him go hot with shame. Being closeted and hating himself was bad enough, but being a bad lay on top of that was too much for Richie to deal with.

It took more than a year to get Dave's voice (dude, do you even know how to use that thing?) out of his head enough to try hooking up again. From then on, he exclusively bottomed. Which was fine, because it turns out Richie loves getting fucked, but now--

"Hey." Eddie's face is soft as he reaches to stroke the back of Richie's hand. "I know, I promise. And if you don't want to, I'll drop it. But can I tell you what I had in mind first?"

"I mean, I guess you can talk dirty to me if you really want, Eds," Richie says.

"Well, I was thinking I'd like to ride your dick," Eddie says. "That way I'm more in control and it's less pressure for you. You can just lie there and enjoy it. I could even tie you up if you want." He's not using even a hint of his sexy voice--by his tone, they could be discussing what color to paint the guest bedroom. Why is that so fucking hot to Richie?

"Uh, yeah," he manages. "That would be good."

Eddie grins at him. "Yeah?" Now he sounds a little flirtatious. "I'll do all the work. You'll just have to watch me open myself up. And I'll take my time, make sure I'm completely ready for your huge cock. You won't have to worry about hurting me. I'll stretch myself out really well." 

"Hnnnf," says Richie, seductively.

"It'll be just like watching me fuck myself with a dildo," says Eddie. "Except you'll be my toy. I'll just use you to get myself off."

Richie's face is still hot, but it has nothing to do with embarrassing memories anymore. "Yeah," he says, sounding choked. "Yeah, okay."

"You're good with that?" Eddie asks, searching Richie's face for signs of hesitation. Richie nods like a bobble-head doll.

God, he loves Eddie so much. Leave it to him to ask Richie to fuck him in the most thoughtful, caring way, working around Richie's weird hangups and being unbelievably sexy at the same time. Richie's never been this emotionally horny.

"Great," says Eddie, and then takes a sip of his wine. "So anyway, tell me about your day."

Neither Richie's brain nor his dick were prepared for this hairpin turn. "Um," he says, squirming in his seat. "When did you want to, like, do this?"

"For my birthday, like I said," Eddie replies. "It's next week, Rich, please don't tell me you've forgotten when my fucking birthday is."

"No," Richie says quickly. "I just…" His dick strains uncomfortably in his jeans. He knows how pitiful he sounds when he says, "Next week?"

Eddie sets his wineglass down slowly and fixes Richie with his intense, dark stare. "Oh," he says, and the single syllable thrums through Richie's whole body. "You don't want to wait."

Richie holds Eddie's gaze until he thinks he might die from it. Finally, Eddie smiles.

"Can I finish my dinner first?"

By the time Eddie's done eating--he went back for seconds on the chicken, because he's a monster--Richie is nearly levitating with excitement. Finally, Eddie stacks the dishes in the sink. He looks at Richie, perched on the edge of his chair like he's waiting for the starter pistol, and cocks and eyebrow. "You coming or what?"

"Any second now," Richie gasps, and dashes for the bedroom.

"On the bed," Eddie directs him, and Richie sprawls out breathless and aching as Eddie unceremoniously strips him. Then, still fully clothed, Eddie straddles Richie's waist and leans over to kiss him. The friction of Eddie's shirt buttons against his own bare chest makes him feel like a wild animal. He sucks hard on Eddie's lower lip.

"Fuck, baby, you taste amazing," Eddie whispers into his mouth. He takes hold of Richie's hands and pins them to the mattress above his head. "Stay there," he orders, as if Richie would ever move from where Eddie put him. Then he sits up and makes a show of slowly undoing his tie, dragging it from under his collar with a relish that makes Richie's mouth water. When Eddie starts winding the silk around the bars of the headboard and then his wrists, he's pretty sure he's got his tongue hanging out of his mouth like a cartoon character.

"Good?" Eddie asks. He runs his fingertips over Richie's palms, feather-light, making sure Richie can feel it. Richie shivers.

"So fucking good." He twists his wrists against the tie, flexes a little to reassure himself the knots aren't going to give at an inopportune moment. Eddie's knots are strong; he's not going anywhere.

With Richie's hands secure, Eddie kisses him again, slow and deep this time, his tongue exploring Richie's mouth. Richie moans into it and Eddie grabs a handful of his hair, tugs Richie's head back to kiss wet down his neck. Then, abruptly, he stands, taking a step back from the bed to survey the length of Richie's naked body.

There was a time when Richie shrank from this kind of attention; now he preens under it. He's still a fuckup with a million insecurities, but Eddie has proven over and over again that Richie, exactly how he is, is exactly what Eddie wants. So he lies here exposed, hairy chest and beer belly and thick, heavy cock and all, loving the way Eddie's eyes caress him.

"Happy fucking birthday to me," Eddie says, his voice a low rumble. Then he takes his clothes off.

There's none of the theatricality he brought to the removal of his tie; still, Richie can barely breathe for watching him. Eddie's so goddamn beautiful, just a hint of dark hair curling between his sculpted pecs and trailing down to his belly button, the perfect v of his hips framing his statuesque cock. Sometimes Richie wishes he were an artist, that he could paint Eddie in watercolors or carve him out of marble. Mostly, though, he just wants to lick every square inch of his flawless body.

Eddie looks at him like he knows what Richie is thinking--which, fair; it's not like Richie is subtle--and strokes slowly up the length of his dick, then back down. Richie's eyes follow his hand.

"You look so good like this," Eddie says. "All helpless and desperate. Ready for me to do whatever I want with you."

"Anything," Richie breathes.

Eddie bends over the bed. "Open your mouth, baby."

Richie complies, holding out his tongue as if to receive communion. His dick throbs, knowing what's coming. Eddie's jaw works as he summons saliva into his mouth. Then he spits it onto Richie's tongue. It's barely anything, but Richie swallows as though he's dying of thirst.

"So good," Eddie says again. Richie moans, rolling his hips against nothing. "Fuck, if you could see yourself, Rich."

Before Richie can reply, Eddie turns to the dresser, pulling out a bottle of lube. He doesn't even look at Richie as he slicks up his fingers. They've barely touched yet but Eddie's already mostly hard, Richie sees through a haze of desire. (Richie himself has been rock solid and burning for it since before they moved to the bedroom.) 

Eddie climbs onto the bed, close enough that Richie could touch him if his hands weren't bound. He kneels with his legs spread wide. Richie cranes his neck to see better. Gripping his cock absently with one hand, Eddie reaches between his legs with the other, working the tip of one finger into his hole.

It's the hottest fucking thing Richie's ever seen. He's afraid to blink in case he misses something.

Eddie goes slow. It makes sense that he'd take longer to prep himself than he normally does Richie, since Richie's so much more used to getting fucked; even so, Richie can tell Eddie is taking his sweet time. He's lingering, moving his finger in slow circles, pausing to adjust like it's the first time he's ever had anything in his ass, sliding deeper a fraction of an inch at a time.

By the time Eddie adds a second finger, Richie's so hard it hurts. Eddie bites his bottom lip and lets his head fall back, as if he's so wrapped up in the sensation of fucking himself he's forgotten Richie is even here. He's gorgeous, relaxing his usual white-knuckle grip on self-control, moving languidly in the direction of his own pleasure. His cheeks and chest are flushed; sweat beads at his hairline. Richie loves being the only one who gets to see him like this.

"Oh God," Eddie murmurs, two fingers deep inside. His cock stands erect but neglected against his stomach. Richie strains against the tie around his wrists, needing to touch Eddie where he's red and hard, wanting it so bad he briefly forgets he's immobilized.

"Eds," he moans. Eddie's eyelids flutter as he gives Richie a considering glance.

"Getting impatient?" he asks. "I promised I'd take my time, so you don't have to worry about hurting me. I'm doing this for you, baby."

"You're so hot and mean," Richie says. Eddie grins at him and works a third finger into himself.

"Bitch, you love it," he says, then interrupts himself with a long, throaty groan. Richie whimpers in response. His cock twitches, smearing precome on his stomach. His ears are ringing. He's seen Eddie finger himself before, and occasionally fuck himself with a dildo, but this is miles from that, even if the mechanics are the same. This time, Eddie's doing it to get ready for Richie. All of this, the theatrics and performance of it, is because Eddie wants Richie's dick inside him so badly. He's willing to work for it. The thought makes Richie feel like a deep lake on the last day of winter, covered with ice so thin it could shatter at a breath.

He's so enthralled he's barely even nervous, and he knows that's exactly how Eddie means for him to feel, that Eddie orchestrated every overwhelming sensation he's having right now. He feels wild and out of control and completely safe, borne along on the fierce current of Eddie's love.

Eddie is fucking himself for real now, thrusting vigorously with three fingers. "You're beautiful," Richie says, his mouth dry.

"You," Eddie grunts. A shudder runs through him and Richie knows he's hit his prostate. "God, you look fucking delicious, Rich, all tied up and waiting for me. I could come just looking at you like this."

Richie can't muster anything more coherent than a whine of protest.

"Yeah, that'd be torture, wouldn't it? All tied up and not allowed to touch me, just have to lie there and watch. It would make you crazy, but you'd do it for me, I know you would. You're so good for me."

"Eddie," Richie moans.

"Someday," Eddie says with a wicked grin. "Not today, though. Today I'm gonna ride that fucking monster cock of yours and you're gonna come inside me like a good boy."

Richie pulses like a strobe light. "Please."

"Yeah?" Eddie purses his lips thoughtfully. "Maybe I should work up to four fingers, just to make sure I'm really ready."

"Please." This time it comes out as a sob.

"Mmm." Eddie eases his fingers out. "You know I can't resist you when you're sweet. Okay, baby, you ready to fuck me?"

"Oh God, yes." He's not scared. He's not hesitant. He's not anything except frantic to get Eddie on top of him.

Eddie pours more lube over his fingers and spreads it up and down Richie's shaft. The cool slickness makes Richie shiver, though the rest of his body is melting hot. He crawls slowly up Richie's body, kissing his chest and neck, until he's hovering above him, forearms on either side of Richie's head.

"All right, sweetheart," Eddie says. "Give it to me." And before Richie can respond, or even move, Eddie's lining him up and sinking down, down, hot and tight and fucking perfect, staring into Richie's eyes, breathing deep and slow until he finally, exquisitely, comes to rest with his ass flush against Richie's hips.

"Oh, fuck," Eddie sighs. He shifts his weight minutely, and Richie sees God or the Turtle or the vast incomprehensible clockwork of the universe or whatever. He can't believe he's chosen to live without this feeling for so long.

"I can't believe you made me wait so fucking long for this," Eddie says, as though he's read the words in Richie's mind, and maybe he has. "God, Richie, I could kill you right now except you feel so fucking good."

"You feel," Richie begins, but finds there's no word in the English language to adequately express how Eddie feels, enveloping him.

"Yeah," Eddie agrees anyway, and then he starts to move. Hands splayed on Richie's chest, he lifts himself up, then slides down Richie's cock again, gasping at the stretch and drag. "Baby, your dick is amazing. I can't believe I'm the only one who's ever had you like this. I can't believe how fucking lucky I am."

Richie's face goes hot and his eyes prickle with unexpected tears. He turns his face to the side, wishing he had a hand free to cover his eyes for a moment, but Eddie cups Richie's cheek in his hand and turns him back. "No, listen to me," he insists. As he speaks, he continues working himself up and down Richie's dick in long, smooth strokes. Richie takes a moment in the midst of a cacophony of emotions to marvel, not for the first time, at the indomitable thigh muscles of Eddie Kaspbrak.

"I love your dick," Eddie says. "I love that you're letting me do this. I love the way you're fucking me."

"I'm literally just lying here," Richie murmurs, but his heart soaks up the praise like parched earth.

"Yeah, just like I told you to," Eddie says. "You're always so good for me. Christ, Richie--" He's picking up speed now, riding Richie at a steady trot. "You're everything I could ever want. You're so good. You're my good boy, aren't you?"

Richie can barely think, barely form words, the way Eddie's moving on and around him. The pleasure building in his core is magma-hot, beyond anything Richie's ever felt before. "Yeah," he chokes out.

"Say it," says Eddie, and squeezes around him so Richie nearly loses it on the spot.

"I'm your good boy," he gasps.

"You are," Eddie says, finally beginning to sound out of breath. "You're so good for me, Richie, I love you so much, I fucking love your cock, you feel so goddamn good--"

"Let me suck on your fingers," Richie blurts out, and he might be embarrassed by that if he didn't see how the words make Eddie's cock drip onto his own hairy stomach. Eddie swipes his thumb over Richie's bottom lip and Richie sucks it eagerly, rough on the spot at the back of his tongue that's just shy of making him gag. The combination of feelings, his mouth being filled while Eddie rides his dick, sends Richie careening toward a precipice of bliss he's never even glimpsed before.

"Ahh, ahh," he says around Eddie's thumb, loving how the sound comes out wet and strangled, knowing Eddie loves it too.

Eddie understands perfectly. "Don't come yet," he says quickly. "Me first. I've been dreaming of coming on your big hard cock for months."

He shifts from the rhythm he's been maintaining to a slow, deep grind, tightening around Richie and holding him exactly where Eddie needs him. He doesn't reach for his own cock, ferociously hot and hard between them, just rocks his ass against Richie's hips, chasing the perfect angle. Richie's seen Eddie do this with a dildo before, but feeling it from the inside is an entirely different experience. His whole body is full of fireworks going off and he hasn't even come yet.

"Fuck, baby," Eddie whispers. His spit-slick thumb trembles in Richie's mouth. The fingers of his other hand tangle and clench in Richie's chest hair. He finds the spot he wants and stays there, rocking back and forth so minutely it's almost hard to tell he's moving at all, except that his mouth is falling open wider with every sigh of "fuck, fuck, fuck," and Richie is a fraying rope of desperation.

Eddie clamps his jaw shut, going perfectly still and silent all over, and then he snarls "Motherfucker" and comes all over Richie's chest. As he shudders through the aftershocks, Richie wishes his hands were free to brush Eddie's hair off his sweaty forehead. But he forgets about that when Eddie's eyes snap open, huge and almost black, and he says "What are you waiting for, Richie, fucking fill me up."

The instant he hears the words, Richie's orgasm rips him in half. He squeezes his eyes shut so hard he sees the explosion that created the universe, and he drifts in space, surrounded by furious, brilliant stars.

Slowly, as he catches his breath, he looks up and sees Eddie, smiling down at him with the purest, most tender expression of love Richie's ever seen. He lies there recovering as Eddie reaches up to untie his wrists, then bends to kiss his forehead, his temple, his ear.

"You were so good for me, lover," Eddie murmurs. "This was great practice for my birthday."


End file.
